Tiger

TIGER

I didn't know I had to earn my stripes

I loved my life: moving through my environment

with unforced rhythms of grace

feeling the silky ripple of muscle in slow-mo

or, exhilarated by speed,

hurtling through undergrowth

I was part of a bigger self -

the sky-high, wind-whistling, tree-rustling

aria-singing, baboon-bickering

monkey-dancing, snake-shimmying

creation, all harmonising

And I sang my note

My name is Pax Vobiscum - peace be with you

But my part in the whole diminished as I grew

Or did I imagine it? - that herds bolted, monkeys shrieked,

birds took flight, along my route?

But no - they huddle and gossip,

look over their shoulders, move away casually

then head for the horizon, in armoured formation

How have I offended you?

Am I too loud for your colour scheme?

Too clumsy, too large, too attention-seeking?

Too alive? Too present? Too close to home?

If I want to be accepted, I must be quiet,

modestly camouflaged in stripy shade

I must move very little, not open my mouth

Be beige

I didn't know I was a tiger, when I came

Didn't know there would be pain in my stripes

Didn't know there was a price

to be paid.

Bigot's Tourettes

A relaxed conversation around the dinner table suddenly changed gear when one of the guests, an amiable older man, reacted to someone's casual mention of the gay marriage controversy in the Church of England.

It was as though someone had flipped a switch. From sitting back chatting idly about this and that, he went into what sounded like a pre-recorded speech about the morality of gay relationships.

A bit startled, I tried to answer his bullet points but he wouldn't engage, merely repeating his previous phrases in the same order.

His son stood up and interrupted. 'You have to understand,' he said, speaking to me, 'that Dad, who is normally an easy-going, generous kind of soul, occasionally goes into these rants. It's not his fault. He suffers from Bigot's Tourettes.'

His father halted in mid-tirade. 'What?'

'Yes,' the son continued. 'He'll be talking in his usual rational way - then suddenly something triggers him and he's off: "Down with blacks! Aagh! What have I said? What just came over me?"'

He walked round the table, patted his father on the shoulder and said, 'Here, Dad, have a grape. You'll feel better in a minute. See?' he concluded, as everyone dissolved into laughter, including his father, 'He's back to normal now.'

I'm wondering whether we all, to some extent, suffer from Bigot's Tourettes - whether there is one subject, or several, that triggers a person to vomit a pre-formed opinion that travels directly from subconscious to speech without control from the conscious brain.

The outburst is not premeditated or rational, and may be totally incompatible with the person's system of belief.

In the past months, I've heard Bigot's Tourette-type rants from the following:

•  people who describe themselves as pro-life yet argue in favour of the death penalty; 
• Jews who deplore anti-Semitism yet publish scurrilous insults about Muslims; 
• Christians who talk about loving the poor then harshly castigate debtors, and from 
• atheists who outlaw expressions of Christian faith then reverently quote poetic cliches dispensed by a range of self-appointed secular humanist gurus.

Do you have a Bigot's Tourettes flashpoint?

If so, maybe it's time to switch the thinking brain back on and reconsider your views on that point.

Alternatively, you could start writing a blog ......

Lifetime achievement

A Christmas cracker joke asks, 'What would you like people to say about you when you're in your coffin?'

One person answers, 'I'd like them to say I was a self-made businessman who used my wealth generously to promote the arts and provide sporting opportunities for the less advantaged.'

Another says, 'I'd like them to say I was a dedicated teacher who made a better future possible for many children, and who was a loving wife and mother.'

And the third says, 'When I'm in my coffin, I'd most like to hear them say, "Look - he moved!"'

The ambition to achieve something memorable in our life reflects a desire to make the most of the short time we have and perhaps to be remembered after we die.

But the real life work goes deeper than amassing achievements - the work of developing your own character.

Doing good deeds, which is the focus of many religions, is not the same thing at attaining integrity.

Jimmy Savile, as one example, had glowing obituaries written about his 'lifetime achievement' of charity work, and the terrible damage inflicted on vulnerable young people was only later revealed.

Good deeds, however many or significant, don't achieve anything that could compensate for the ruin of personal integrity.

What could it benefit anyone to gain the whole world - of influence, fame, achievements or even good deeds - and lose their soul?

What would you like people to say about you before you're in your coffin?

How about, 'Look - he/she is moving!'

While they're still breathing, there's time for anyone to check out how the real lifetime achievement is coming along, to do some heart-searching and turn their life around.